La Cadienité de Will Graham
by lepetitmonde
Summary: Will finds an excuse to return to his native Lafayette, Louisiana, and while he assumed everything Cajun about him has dissipated, he gets back in touch with his roots and speaks a little Louisiana French, too. Pretty safe to assume that this is probably an AU without insane!Hannibal and, most importantly, Will Graham has a very good couple of days.
1. Chapter 1

Early one Tuesday morning, while Will sat slumped over his kitchen table with an extra-strong cup of coffee, his hand absent-mindedly scratching behind one of his dog's ear, his old cell phone rang. Jack, on the other end, had called to request that Will accompany him to a crime scene in Biloxi. While the FBI was already rather sure of who they should be looking for, it would be a good distraction from the Ripper, and Dr. Lecter had quietly advised Jack in his office that it would do Will some good to leave Virginia and the premises for awhile. Will felt a strain in his chest, the word Biloxi striking an incredibly familiar chord with him. Will had grown up a mere two, three hours away in Lafayette, Louisiana, and while he did not consider himself to be a sentimental man, it was difficult to ignore the strong fondness he felt for his hometown. After spending year after year away from Lafayette and away from the South, he rarely paid a thought to the heavy, humid air of Louisiana. His accent had disappeared during high school and college, and he no longer had family he kept in touch with; he had, for all intents and purposes, been rendered _joliment amaricain*_, or so his father would have said.

So, with the old cell phone pressed against his cheek, he nodded.

"Yeah, Biloxi." He felt his heart leap in his chest. Distant memories of another lifetime came to life in his mind's eye: the heavy, damp summer air, the thick, green kudzu covering any place there was no road, and the musical, quick Cajun French that Will once knew how to speak, too. Unable to suppress a smile, Will stood from his kitchen table and glanced around his kitchen at the numerous dogs sprawled out on the floor, wondering how he would fit them all in the car for the trip to the pet daycare.

Notes:

1*: Many Franco-Lousianans refer to American Anglophones as "Amaricains," excluding themselves from American-ness despite Louisiana being a part of the U.S. The use of the word joliment, meaning beautifully in European French, means "very" in Louisiana dialects.


	2. Chapter 2

Upon arrival, Will had been somewhat ill at ease with Hannibal, who had for whatever reason accompanied Jack and the forensics team to Biloxi. There was something that just wasn't quite right about seeing the impeccably dressed European in the backdrop of a steamy late-summer Mississippi city; stranger still was that Hannibal seemed more or less at ease with his surroundings, showing no signs of discomfort in the very different America that may as well have been a world away from the Eastern Seaboard. Will watched him carefully, almost wanting him to slip up and fail to fit in; on the contrary, the Mississippians with whom they came in contact in working the case seemed nothing but charmed by Hannibal's accent and polite affectation.

The case, as it turned out, barely required any expertise on the part of the FBI. After one surprisingly straightforward visit to a crime scene, and one surprisingly good night's sleep, little more was required of Will. It was Will's final day away from Wolf Trap that Jack approached him yet again, this time with a sympathetic air. Will furrowed his brow; it had become a pet peeve of his when Jack treated him as so fragile that he wouldn't even make it through a run-of-the-mill case without losing his head.

"Will," Jack inquired deliberately, eyeing the younger man carefully. Will looked up from the book he had been reading and attempted his most stable-looking smile; it didn't take as much effort as he thought it might have, though, leading Will to believe that Dr. Lecter had been right about some away time. Jack raised his eyebrows at Will's expression; he was caught so off-guard by Will's rare smile that he couldn't help but mirror it.

"How are you holding up?" Jack asked. Confidence swelled in his chest as he watched Will, almost as he had been when he had first sought him; certainly not as broken as he had seemed in the past weeks.

"Good, fine," Will replied truthfully, closing his book gently and setting it on the nearby table. "Back to the grindstone tomorrow, I guess," he added, with flat laughter.

"That's what I was gonna ask you about," Jack replied. Will looked up, his blue-green eyes less bleary than Jack had seen in some time. "You grew up not too far from here, aren't you?"

"Ah, yeah," Will acknowledged, his cheeks coloring. He wasn't accustomed to talking about his childhood, and there was certainly a part of him that was embarrassed about being a 'Coonass.' The thought alone conjured memories of being bullied as a child for his broken Franglish.

"Now, I understand it's been hard on you…" Jack continued cautiously, watching for a reaction. "I wanted to propose some time off-if you wanted to visit home, or…"

Will sat silently for several moments, his mind reeling faster than he could keep up. He didn't have anyone to visit, per se: acquaintances, maybe, old friends from another lifetime, but no family, no real legitimate reason to go back. But it was Lafayette, and he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't have a single pleasant memory from gorgeous, green Cajun Country. Would it be better to stay away? He was feeling better just being away from his home in Wolf Trap, but what if it was more painful to return now, after so long? The idea of boarding the plane to Virginia, though, seemed to access that strange sensitive chord in his chest, so much so that it was only several seconds before he decided that yes, he'd like that a lot.

"Thank you," he responded, beginning to fidget in his seat out of unveiled nervousness and excitement. Jack smiled.

"One more thing," he added, affectionately placing a firm hand on Will's shoulder. "And don't take this the wrong way." Will's heart sank as he looked up at Jack. Will was rather sure Jack was about to insult him.

"Since you're going to be alone for a few days-and Will, this is purely for your own safety-"

"You're making someone look after me?" Will asked incredulously, his mind providing him with maddening images of a vacation with Katz or worse, alone with Alana…

"Now, Dr. Lecter said he would be more than happy to accompany you, Will." Jack interrupted Will's mind, which was too prone to spinning out of control with possible scenarios.

"You asked Dr. Lecter." Will repeated. He shook his head, failing to suppress a quick laugh at the image of the poor Doctor in Lafayette, of all places. Biloxi was one thing; Lafayette, bilingual at least and anomalous, was a completely different story.

"Will, you can't deny that Dr. Lecter has been incredibly helpful with your episodes, as well as your ability to cope. You could have been in much bigger trouble if you had been alone during your last episode; I'm not going to put you in that situation."

Will was overwhelmed by Jack's logical thinking in this predicament. Despite the numerous brazen responses that occurred to Will, Jack was absolutely right. His most recent episode had scared him, too, and it simply made sense to have someone to watch over him, at least as long as he was traveling.

"Well, I'll make sure Dr. Lecter knows that this isn't part of his job," Will retorted, his back-talking instinct kicking in. Jack sighed deeply and left the room, leaving Will sitting alone, bouncing his right leg nervously and wondering how on earth he found himself in this perplexity. Will pondered the idea of spending such an extended period of time with the good doctor. Dr. Lecter-Hannibal-was his psychiatrist, nothing else. Will could see Hannibal in his mind's eye, his expensive suits, his perfectly styled hair, his lavish leather shoes, and that calm voice, so easy to listen to: perfect and proper in every sense, cold and intimidating, reserved, kind and now, his travel consort. Will let out a quiet groan, putting his face in his hands, accepting his strange fate.


	3. Chapter 3

The highway, lined with thick green kudzu, flew past as Will sped down the familiar highway I-10. The silence in the rental Chevy was surprisingly easy, and Hannibal seemed to be silently appreciating the scenery, too. The ride so far had been filled with similar silences punctuated by small talk, mostly about the Biloxi case and Jack. Will ran a hand through his curls, suddenly wishing that he had something interesting to discuss with his car mate; he was worried that he was an incredibly dull companion, and God forbid Hannibal felt as though accompanying Will was a chore. Hannibal glanced to Will, and as though he had read Will's mind, broke the silence.

"You are from a typically Francophone region of Louisiana," he remarked in his low, even voice. The corners of Will's mouth twitched. "You are no doubt familiar with the dialect?"

Will laughed once, pulling on the collar of his plaid shirt. Hannibal silently appreciated Will's endearingly nervous gestures.

"Yeah, familiar. My dad, he, uh, he spoke mostly Cad-Cajun in the house," Will replied, stifling his instinct. Cajun may as well have been a curse word in Will's childhood home; On est cadien, his father would say. Cajun was for a word for anglophones.

"So you are a native speaker," Hannibal inquired, shifting in the passenger's seat. Will felt his cheeks darken and he cleared his throat.

"Um, used to be, probably. I don't know, it's been years." Curiosity made Will glance over to Hannibal. "You speak French." It was more a statement than a question. Hannibal nodded, a small smile stretching his lips.

"Ce n'est pas du tout la même langue*," Hannibal added, with a vague, general knowledge of the Louisiana dialect. Will registered a change in his tone before he noticed the shift in his language.

"Yeah, well here we don't exactly speak _le bon français*_," Will replied, almost involuntarily in the Franglish that felt so familiar to his lips that it almost eclipsed his embarrassment. Hannibal raised his eyebrows, Will's effortlessly rolled r's echoing in his ears. Certainly, it wasn't the French Hannibal had learned in Paris.

"Tu dis des bêtises," Hannibal replied softly, "Tu parles superbement*." Will narrowed his eyes and glanced at the good doctor, whose disposition seemed more open, more accessible in the new register. For some reason, Will couldn't help but smile; he supposed that maybe, somewhere, deep in his mind, there was still some Cadien.

Notes:

*1: They are hardly the same language.

*2: _Le bon français_ is a term that refers to European French, and has been widely regarded in Louisana history as superior to Lousianan dialects, despite the political incorrectness and cultural insensitivity of that assertion.

*3: Nonsense. You speak beautifully.


	4. Chapter 4

After only an hour or so more of driving through the wild, green country, Hannibal and Will arrived in the center of Lafayette, where Will had hurriedly called in a reservation only hours earlier. The hotel was small, quaint but proper, like Lafayette itself; the yellow wallpaper was tasteful enough, but as Hannibal set his briefcase down on the small sofa, Will stood still and felt his heart leap. There was only one fluffy, floral-duvet bed in the center of the tiny room. He glanced helplessly at Hannibal, who raised his eyebrows and smiled. Will waited for a response, anything, and his heart raced in his chest.

"I can, uh-" he started, gesturing towards the sofa.

"Don't be absurd, Will," Hannibal replied instantly, his warm gaze shutting Will down immediately. "A good night's sleep is far too rare a treat for you. I have no problem occupying the fauteuil."

Will colored. "I'm sorry, Dr. Lecter." He felt himself beginning to sweat slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to drag you along, and now-"

"Will," Hannibal interrupted, closing the space between them with one swift step. "You are not forcing me to do anything. I am happy to be here with you. I simply wish for you to be comfortable, and for you to feel better."

Will furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his feet, nodding but guilty. He put a hand on Hannibal's shoulder, the white fabric smooth under the pads of his fingers. Hannibal smiled at the gesture and reached across his body to place his hand on top of Will's.

"Thank you." Will doesn't look up, his blush hot around his neck and face, but sees Hannibal's polite smirk.

"You are very welcome, my good Will."


	5. Chapter 5

As Will reclined on the plushy hotel bed, he expected to feel drained more than anything; a long day of traveling after working a case was usually the most likely window of time in which he got any good sleep. He shut his eyes experimentally, but opened them again half a moment later. The sounds of the shower in the adjoining bathroom were muffled by the flimsy door. Will furrowed his brow at the scent that hung in the air; he remembered Hannibal having had an extremely keen sense of smell, but he was surprised to notice the thick waves of very strong body wash coming from the steaming shower. Will inhaled and for a moment, swore he could smell-black tea?-emanating from the shower. He sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he muttered to no one in particular, as he sat up, feeling surprisingly alert. He looked around the room-he hadn't brought a book, not counting on much downtime. He glanced at his watch-almost three in the afternoon. He sighed, glancing back at the thin bathroom door. They had nearly depleted the tank of gasoline in the rental car. With absolutely nothing else to do, and because it was an excuse to drive around Lafayette, Will hastily scribbled a note on the hotel stationary and left it on Hannibal's suitcase, turning on his heel to return to the car.

Hannibal, just as he reached to shut off the hot water, heard the door of the small room slam. He twisted the knob and stepped out of the shower, half convinced that Will had taken the opportunity to leave unsupervised. Hannibal smiled and wrapped a towel around his waist, walking out into the room where he spotted the messy note from Will.

Car needed gas-filling up the tank, be right back,

-W.

Hannibal folded the paper neatly and slipped it into his briefcase, his sly smile gracing his features as his wet hair dripped onto his chest and back.


	6. Chapter 6

Windows down, hot breeze filling the stuffy rental car, Will couldn't help but smile at all the familiar sights in his hometown. He drove through the old, familiar neighborhoods with small, cookie-cutter houses, one after the other, lining the road as far as he could see. Will glanced at the gas gauge; the empty tank had been a convenient excuse to get out of the hotel, but it was a valid excuse. Searching for a gas station, Will absentmindedly clicked on the car radio, almost surprised when KBON 101.1 came blaring on the speakers. He scrambled to turn down the volume before he realized it was one of the most familiar tunes of his youth; he recalled with startling precision the same Breaux Freres song coming from the kitchen of his childhood home. He laughed incredulously, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the zydeco beat, bouncing his knee and humming along to the familiar notes. Surprising even himself, he was more than capable of singing along to the verses of Ma Blonde est Partie. As he pulled into a gas station, the vague sensation of being home made Will so at-ease, he might as well have been a child again: no fear of himself, no gruesome images flashing in his mind's eye, and (perhaps most importantly), the long, bathetic zydeco chords as music to his ears.


	7. Chapter 7

Flushed from the heat and quite unable to veil his overflow of sentimental joy, Will appeared back at his hotel room to find Dr. Lecter (flawlessly adorned, as per usual), seated in the sofa, a book spread across his lap. He raised his head to greet Will and had to suppress a reaction himself; Will was scarcely smiling, let alone exhilarated.

"An excellent trip to the gas station, I presume," Hannibal remarked, cocking an eyebrow and giving Will a small smile as he shut the book in his lap.

"Yeah," Will replied, followed by an awkward laugh. "I took the scenic route," he added.

"I would love to see Lafayette," Hannibal replied, his mouth producing the French word faultlessly. Will felt his cheeks color at the doctor's voice, so different, so much softer in French. While there was a foreign quality to Hannibal's very Parisian dialect, Will still felt somehow comforted by his friend's Francophonie.

"Well I'd be happy to take you 'round," Will replied, unaware of how much his register had shifted since he had arrived. Hannibal responded with a smile and a small incline of his head. "We could, let's see…" Will glanced down at his watch for only the second time the entire day. "It's about half past four." He looked back up at his friend, blue-green meeting dark brown, and raised his eyebrows in inquiry. "It's almost six."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Hannibal replied, standing from the sofa and following Will out the door.

"Corner Bar it is."


	8. Chapter 8

Will desperately wondered whether he had unconsciously read some advertisement for the event at the bar that night: he wasn't exactly familiar with the tagline, "Piastres en Masse," but he had a good idea of what it was. While Will grew up knowing there was a massive pressure on French-speaking Louisianans to give up their first language (which, incidentally, was Will thought he had done himself), he was also aware of a push towards encouraging spoken French in the public sphere. Why else would there be a sign in Louisiana French? Will hesitated when he circled the parking lot, nervous, for whatever reason: Hannibal was incredibly proper, and incredibly foreign to a native of Lafayette. Will's instinct was to hide away that part of him: Hannibal knew Virginia Will, Wolf Trap Will, American, English-speaking Will, not some backwater Coonass speaking broken Franglish. He bit his lip.

"Piast' en masse," he read the sign helplessly, unsure of how to convey himself to the good doctor, who was seated serenely with his hands folded in his lap beside him. "You know, we could always go somewhere else."

"If you are hesitant for my sake, please, do not be concerned. I'm quite fascinated by this subculture." Hannibal's mellifluous response was, of course, perfect, and left little room for disagreement. Will sighed, silently grateful that he had not denoted it as Will's own subculture.

Mercifully, as indicated by the mostly-empty parking lot, it appeared as though the "Piastres en Masse" crowd had yet to arrive. Will smiled at the dank, dark bar; with clean but small tables, the obligatory pool table in the center and mounted stag head on the wall, the bar had every unassuming aspect of almost any given dive bar in the country. Will happily took an empty seat at the bar, his friend following, a polite but clinical look of analysis on his face. Will almost wanted to roll his eyes.

"Two Sazeracs," Will called to the bartender, whose back was turned to the lit wall of liquors. Hannibal, evaluating his surroundings, accepted his whiskey politely, though he would certainly not have ordered whiskey for himself. Will pressed the glass to his lips and took a long draw. It had been years since he had thought of, let alone visited the bar, and his Sazerac was every bit as strong and divine as he remembered. Hannibal easily kept pace with Will, who became gradually more loquacious as he began to feel the warmth of the alcohol in his stomach.

"My dad," Will began, swallowing a swig of his third drink, "He used to love this place, went here all the time."

"Your father drank frequently?" Hannibal asked, unwilling to admit the slight light-headedness resulting from the quite powerful concoction in his hand.

"On and off," Will replied easily, finishing his first glass and gesturing at the bartender for another. Hannibal followed suit and finished his as well. Both glasses were replenished quickly, and, while he wasn't paying too much attention any longer, Will noticed how much louder it had gotten in the bar since they had arrived.

"That aside, I imagine he would have been a reputable man," Hannibal replied tactfully, loosening the cuffs on his shirt.

"Why's that?" Will asked, watching the doctor's deft fingers fiddle with his cuff buttons.

"Because he raised you," Hannibal responded in an undertone. Will paused for a moment, shook his head and laughed, offering his glass in a quick, friendly toast. Both men emptied their third Sazerac when suddenly, Will felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Mais regarde qui c'est!*" A loud female voice behind Will startled him and his dulled senses. He turned to see an almost unfamiliar face-but the memories returned and suddenly, he was twelve years old again and walking home from school with Heather Authier-

His thoughts were interrupted when he was pulled into a tight hug around his neck, and with a small laugh Will embraced her back.

"T'es après faire quoi icitte?*" The young lady demanded, beaming and laughing. Will returned her grin and, forgetting Hannibal for a moment, replied.

"J'sus on vacation," Will replied in easy Franglish. " I'faut revenir quand j'peux.*" There was plenty Will was not willing to share with his old acquaintances; Virginia, it seemed, was worlds away. For the time being, he thought, there was a possibility for some punctuated normalcy, and that was refreshing. Heather seemed perfectly happy with his response, and Will watched her gaze fall on Hannibal-if there was one thing that did not belong in the bar, it was him. Will did not anticipate having to explain him.

"Bonsoir*," Hannibal drawled, a smile growing on his lips. The young woman, though, broke into precarious laughter, glancing at Will helplessly.

"This is my, uh, colleague-friend," Will struggled for words in both languages, biting his lip as his childhood friend seemed to scrutinize the doctor.

"Il est amaricain?*" she asked Will, an amused smirk growing on her lips. Will laughed.

"Il est de la Lituanie*," Will replied. He almost felt bad for Hannibal.

"Hannibal Lecter," Hannibal interjected, offering a handshake to the young lady, who gleefully took his hand and parodied his affectation with an ostentatiously drawn-out, "bonsoir, Monsieur, enchantée." Will swore he could see Hannibal's cheeks color at her reply, but kept to himself, searching to change the subject with Heather.

Hannibal was nearly capable of following the conversation as it switched from English to French effortlessly. With four Sazeracs under the table, Hannibal's thought process was slowed, too, and he certainly had a harder time comprehending Will's familiar voice vacillating between both Hannibal's non-native languages. He was quite relieved when Will's childhood friend rejoined the group with which she had arrived, but it appeared as though Will was decidedly bilingual for the rest of the night; his had English waned, to the point at which he was enthusiastically conversing in fast, musical Cajun French with the bartender, with familiar faces in the bar and with Hannibal himself (although, to Hannibal's untrained ear he almost certainly would have preferred English).

Notes:

1*: Look who it is!

2*: What are you doing here?

3*: I'm on vacation. You gotta come back whenever you can.

4*: "Good evening." This greeting would be regarded as strangely formal if not unheard of in the triangle francophone of Louisiana.

5*: He's American? (See above footnote; American in this context refers to non-Franco-Louisianais)

6*: He's from Lithuania.


	9. Chapter 9

As the night drew to a close, and both men had had more than their fill of Sazeracs, beer and (towards the end of the night, in Hannibal's case) wine. "Appelle-nous a taxi!" Will requested almost unintelligibly. Hannibal was very abashed at his current state; he hadn't had that much to drink since probably medical school. Seeing Will, though, swaying and laughing and joking effortlessly in his native tongue was worth it, and he desperately attempted to memorize this carefree version of Will through the haze and vertigo of their long night. Eventually, after somehow arriving at their hotel via taxi ("J'vais get the char demain*," Will had declared), the two men entered into their room. Will carelessly slipped off his shoes and fell into the bed, not quite willing to commit to a bedtime routine when the walls were spinning as they were. Hannibal, on the other hand, stumbled to take his briefcase out of the chair and make room for himself to sleep.

"Hey, nonsense," Will called, muffled by the pillow. "C'est un grand lit.*" Hannibal looked over at Will, whose face was obscured by the fluffy pillows and blankets.

"Will-" Hannibal protested, but Will was not convinced.

"Just veins icitte and sleep,*" Will mumbled into the pillow. Hannibal smiled, sitting on the foot of the bed just long enough to remove his socks before collapsing across from Will. Will blindly sought the lamp switch and clicked it off, waiting for inevitable sleep. The moon shone between the thick curtains of the hotel room and Will, just realizing his glasses were still on, pulled them off and threw them towards the bedside table. The good doctor already sound asleep, Will blinked and tried to phase out the bright moonlight. He knew, for one thing, he would be incredibly hung over the next morning. He knew that it would be hard to go back to Wolf Trap. But he reveled in the night, and the strange, wonderful swell of elation in his chest at the simplicity of being a part of his native language again. Despite years of being away from Lafayette, Will was surprised to find that re-admission was one of the easiest and effortless things he had ever done. The shame, the embarrassment, the associations all left him for a time; Will smiled tiredly, still awash in the feeling of just being himself. Despite the difficult memories of his upbringing, Will began to doze off into uncomplicated sleep, happy to be home, happy to be with a friend and happy, for the first time in quite some time, to be Will Graham, in his own complexity and entirety.

~*~fin~*~

Notes:

1*: Call us a taxi!

2*: I'll get the car tomorrow.

3*: It's a big bed.

4*: Just come here and sleep.


End file.
